There and Back Again
by WheezingAngels
Summary: Tiny one-shots about the Doctor and his old life on Gallefrey. Was just a singular chapter, but people like it so I'm adding more. Albeit very slowly. First is an internal monologue about his lost wife, second a little excerpt from Susan's new life on Earth and things that must of happened.
1. His Tired Hearts

_**Thanks to koryandrs, crazykatz430, JackSpicer2311, and a guest for reviewing. You guys are beautiful and have inspired me to start looking for more chapters! I'm very new to the world of Doctor Who fanfictions, being so long obsessed with the show I never brought myself to changing a single bit. So I'm very pleased you like it and hope you will like the new chapter I'm currently writing!**_

**His Tired Hearts**

He would forget the way her hair smelt. The way her eyes shone and twinkled with the light of a thousand stars. Seeing her pale skin sigh in the blowing grass as red as blood. Then it was her blood. Screams swimming in her eyes as she reached for their children. The last brush of her lips as fire and heat and a sickening smell flooded his nose.

He would cry out before his eyes shot open to see his hands reaching into the darkness. He would leave his bed then. Face frozen in grief, he would pad barefooted down the hallway. His head would peek in on his current companion. Their chests would rise slowly with the calm breath of slumber.

He would be reminded of a little nursery, a twinkling song and a soft smile shrouded in ginger locks. His head would hang low, and he would shuffle back to his bed humming that old tune. He would slip into a restless sleep.

The lovelorn look in her young eyes as his frail frame slipped inside a large metal pod. He watched her lean to kiss little Susan, then send her smiling to that very pod. As they left orbit he watched her walk home alone. Then he was watching her burn, wretch and scream in the erasing of times.

On most nights he would cry himself into REM sleep. But on some lucky nights she would fight. The eternal flame in his hearts would lash out against her horrid fate. He would grin proudly as she grabbed for him. The sands and colors of time dissipating in the ripples and folds of her lavender gown. His hands would reach for her again. But they wouldn't be frail hands. They would be the young, strong hands she had fallen in love with.

Her mischievous grin would excite him to the very corners of eternity. That grin and those hazel eyes that had him itching to take her on a grand adventure. The driving fire that had him running and jumping and twirling through space and time forever. They would laugh and kiss and whisper through the night.

"We are the stars, my sweet love." She would say, twisting her fingers in his tousled hair. "We are made of stardust and the great loves of the universe." He would smile down at her wonder filled face. Childish joy coupled with ageless knowledge. So many centuries they had been together. So many ages and so many faces.

He would lament on good times and bad. Every smile and every sad stare. She had begged him for children, begged him to fill her belly and many halls of laughter. She had grown up with countless siblings. Leaving them had been the hardest for her. Her love was stronger than the pull of time sands.

That was her only solace during the first four miscarriages. For the subsequent ones his jokes and stories no longer put a smile on her face. So he packed her up, still healing and still grieving. And he took her away from that shining glass dome.

He showed her planets and times and fixed moments and changeable moments and somewhere amongst all those adventures and all those sunsets and all those wild moments of fear and truthful moments of devotion, amongst all that her belly grew bigger. Her cheeks grew rosy and her smile shone brighter than any sun or star or burning planet ever seen.

He would wake up just then. He would wake up and remember her perfectly. The way she moved and the way she spoke. He would shiver with the feel of her skin and the smell of her hair. And he would put on a smile, knowing she was out there somewhere. Any doubts, and he would remember their love still strived through Susan and all the children and grandchildren on Earth. That a part of her still lived. His smile would grow a little truer, and he would go into the day with his friends and loved ones and live on as well.


	2. Just the Same

_**This came around by someone I work with asking me who my favorite Doctor was. Like any normal person I took a moment to think, then like I usually do when asked which niece or nephew I want first list them all off in a random order. Then we laughed, and I just looked at him and said, "I like the Doctor, no, I love the Doctor. I love him in all his infinite wisdom and adventure, and I love him regardless of what he wears or who he looks like. He's the same man, and always will be just the Doctor. And I love him for it." So it has begun to strike me odd that everyone has a favorite, or their 'first' Doctor. I was so young when my father had me watching Doctor Who, I literally can't say who was my first other than **_**the**_** First. In my hope to change the tides of favoritism, I'm throwing this little blerb out into the world in the hopes others feel the same, and regardless of which Doctor is described in the situations, Susan knows it's her Grandfather, and her feelings never change.**_

**Just the Same**

On an old forgotten street in a regular part of England that nothing ever happened in, a brunette and her chubby faced offspring stood waiting for an afternoon bus into the city. The little girl overflowing with ginger locks bounced excitedly, the promise of ice cream and a picture show looming in her near future. The brunette mother, wearing a beautifully yellow peacoat, stood humming a catchy tune that had stopped playing on the radio years ago.

A strange noise was heard off in the distance, and the brunette would have known it immediately if her daughter hadn't started singing along to the song she had been humming. The two beamed smiles at each other while battering the lyrics with their out of pitch sing-a-long. Thinking their bus was coming down the road, the mother reached for her pocket book.

It wasn't their bus, and she stepped back to let it drive by. Deciding to pull out the change anyway, she opened the leather wallet and like always took a moment to stare at the ID the sat happily in the open plastic section. Susan Campbell, it read, her smiling face settled beside it. Letting out a sigh, she clipped the wallet closed and dropped it back into her purse.

"Whos that man mommy?" Her daughters tiny voice whispered behind her skirt. Susan took a peek down at her, confusion in her face. "What man Barbara?" Her daughters little hand lifted to point across the road to the opposite bus stop. A strange man stood there, with a large brimmed hat and an impossibly long scarf. Susan squinted her eyes at him, a strange familiarity with the way he looked at her.

"That's Grandfather." She whispered, casting a sly smile down at her daughter. Barbara's head snapped over to the man in shock. "But thats not what you said he looks like." Her words were gargled with the youthfulness of her years. Susan smiled, raising her hand in a small wave as a bus passed by. When her view was clear again, he was gone and the distinct sound of a little blue box was heard off in the distance.

Susan closed her eyes and let the comforting noise wash over her. "He may look different," she smiled down at the girl, taking her hand to walk onto the bus they had been waiting for. "But he is always the same. He's him, and people forget that."


End file.
